


control point

by circumlocute



Category: Cats - Andrew Lloyd Webber
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Multi, Slow Build, characters and relationships will be added as they become relevant, they're still cats but it's important to note they're much more humanized in this piece
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-20
Updated: 2017-02-28
Packaged: 2018-09-25 20:06:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,453
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9841892
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/circumlocute/pseuds/circumlocute
Summary: Mistoffelees has it pretty good. His family is great--except Deuteronomy is never around, Tugger is shirking responsibility at every turn, and Munkustrap is drowning under his endless workload. He's got really great friends--two of them, who he never sees. And he's the most magically-gifted cat born in the past half-decade--that is, if he can manage to keep his powers under control.Or; watch as I cram enough conflict to fill an entire season of a hit NBC drama into a musical about dancing cats.





	1. Prologue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A very short prologue to set the scene. I posted the first chapter immediately after this, both because it was done and, well. This is an awfully short starter. 
> 
> I recognize my headcanons aren't exactly, hmm...the widely accepted ones for the fandom, so let me know if you have any questions for what they are, or how/why I chose what I chose. Thanks for taking the time to read :)

It was late enough that the sun was down, and Deuteronomy was upstairs in his office, doing...whatever it was he did after he’d made sure everyone had eaten and bathed, when Munkustrap heard a knock at the door. In previous years, he would have gone upstairs, hollering for Deuteronomy, but he wasn’t a  _ kitten _ anymore. He was eleven, and that was practically an adult! 

 

“Coming!” Munkustrap called, gesturing for Rum Tum Tugger to stay in the living room. Unlike Munkustrap, he  _ was  _ still a kitten, after all. True to form, Tugger hopped off the couch and scampered after him, to the front door. Ugh, of course. Munkustrap scowled as he walked over to the entryway.

 

“You never listen to me, Tugger!” Munkustrap stopped in front of the door and crossed his arms. “I’m gonna be the boss of you some day, so you have to do what I say.” It was true, after all--Munkustrap was the eldest child who still wanted the job, so that meant he would inherit everything Deuteronomy had built, and it was his job to take care of everyone within that. Being his brother, Tugger definitely counted there.

 

Tugger snorted and rolled his eyes, clearly unimpressed with this argument.  “Are you gonna open the door or make them wait until I say sorry? ‘Cause I ain’t.”

 

Ugh! The worst brother. The  _ worst. _ But...he was right. Munkustrap opened the door, and for a moment he thought that maybe Tugger had called it a little too late--had the caller had gotten fed up and left?--until he glanced down and saw a bundle on the doorstep.

 

A bundle with a tiny, furry head sticking out. Tugger gasped, and Munkustrap bent down silently to pick it up. The cloth was clean and wrapped tightly, and there was a note pinned to the front of it. As Munkustrap scanned the note, his eyes widened. Holy smokes. Tugger was straining to see, and he wasn’t exactly great at reading yet, but he knew more than enough to understand the note. 

 

“Well, he’s really ugly,” Tugger commented, preening his own fur. 

 

“His eyes aren’t even open yet! You looked a lot like he did when you were this little, so there.” Munkustrap thought he was kind of cute, anyway. He had a white face, framed by an awful lot of fluffy black fur. Like if Mr. Bustopher was younger, and also less fat. A lot less fat. 

 

“I can tell he’ll still be ugly, when he does open ‘em.”

 

“Ugh, oh my  _ god _ . Go get Dad and stop being mean to the kitten, or I’ll make sure he grounds you for...a week!”

 

And for once, Tugger decided not to be contrary, and listened to Munkustrap the first time he asked, running up the stairs. Munkustrap could only assume that he understood that maybe having a conniption was a bad idea when the consequences could involve a living, breathing kitten neither of them knew how to take care of.

 

That’d been sixteen years ago. Deuteronomy had taken the kitten in, and elected not to tell him about his...unique origins, choosing rather to raise him under the impression that he’d been born into the family. Munkustrap had accepted it then, and accepted it now, although as he aged he had his reservations.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It might also be important to note just in case, the ship tags I use will generally be following the rule of "&" for friends or relatives, and "/" for romantic relationships. Thanks again


	2. Chapter One: just needs some toast in his mouth

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kicking it off for realsies now! Gonna try to mostly be sticking to third person limited, focused on Misto, for this one. If any references to lessons or whatnot confuse you, please feel free to ask me for clarification.

“ _Mistoffelees!_ Where are you?” Munkustrap called, cupping his hands around his mouth. He’d checked every room in the house, along with the garden, and had finally circled back to the living room.

 

“What?”

 

Mistoffelees smiled sweetly as Munkustrap turned around to find him lounging in the big armchair, legs swung over one of the chair’s arms and a book in his hands. Of course, this wasn’t the first time Munkustrap had been calling for him only to find he was sitting somewhere obvious. Mistoffelees was a showman at heart, and he liked to keep ‘em guessing. Even when his only audience was his family.

 

“Where were you?” Munkustrap put his hands on his hips, a surefire sign he was...well, Mistoffelees had never seen him truly _pissed,_ but he was certainly hedging on irked. Probably not the greatest time for his stock answer, then.

 

“I’ve been, uhhhh, around. What do you need me for?” In truth, Mistoffelees hadn’t been doing anything particularly exciting. Going up on the roof when, if you fall, you can just port yourself to your bed isn’t exactly a thrill a minute. Mostly, he liked it because it was quiet. But, even though it was obviously perfectly safe, Munkustrap would still lose it if he found out. _He could never know._

 

“Well, while you were busy being _around,_ your lessons started twenty minutes ago.”

 

Yikes. Munk’d tolerate five minutes, ten if he was in a good mood, but twenty was pushing it in in the best cases. Mistoffelees swore under his breath and resolved to keep better track of time on lesson days. It wasn’t like the roof had a clock, though. He marked his place and set the book aside on an end table.

 

“I probably missed my ride then, yeah?” Mistoffelees chanced a sheepish smile, and Munkustrap’s gaze softened.

 

“Yeah. C’mon, let’s see if Tugger’ll drop you off on his way to...band practice. Better late than never, right?” The way he said it, Mistoffelees could tell Munk wasn’t exactly a fan of Tugger’s latest endeavor. _Ha._ He hopped up from the armchair and dusted off his pants, frowning at the denim. Normally, Mistoffelees preferred to leave the house in, say, a button down and slacks, but he’d been wearing a t-shirt and jeans so he didn’t get the nicer things dirty with roof detritus.

 

Well, too late now. For all Mistoffelees considered himself a prodigy and a gift to catkind, his powers didn’t extend to time travel. Yet...hmm.

 

“Come on, kid, Tugger likes to be late but you know he’ll leave eventually.” Munkustrap tapped Mistoffelees’ shoulder and started walking towards the front door, likely headed for the garage. Tugger was almost always there, if he was home at all and not doing whatever it was Tugger did when he was out. Every time Mistoffelees asked, Tugger just booped his nose and told him he’d know in a few years. Really, he was predictable in how contrary he was--boring, even.

 

It was a short walk around the front of their house to the garage, where the telltale sounds of 80’s rock could already clearly be heard. Mistoffelees snorted under his breath when Munkustrap muttered something about _another_ noise violation and opened the door. This was gonna be good. He hung back a few feet in hopes that his presence wouldn’t lessen what was likely to be a _hilarious_ scolding--

 

“Tugger? You’ve got practice soon, right? Would you mind dropping off Misto at class on your way? And _turn that down,_ I am not kidding.”

 

\--Aw.

 

Inside, Tugger--who’d been lounging on the hood of his beloved Coronet, messing with his phone--stood up and made a show of turning the radio up precisely one notch. Mistoffelees rolled his eyes--at least when _he_ messed with Munkustrap it was clever, instead of the same ‘neener neener’ stuff as always. How was he the youngest, again?

 

“Yeah, I can take him,” Tugger shouted over the radio, glancing over at the clock on the wall, “isn’t he late, though?”

 

“Sure is!” The way Munkustrap said it made it sound like there would be _consequences_ later, and Mistoffelees shuffled his feet in the dirt outside the garage. “So the sooner you could take him, the better. I’d do it, but I’ve got paperwork and you’re heading out anyway, you know?”

 

Tugger nodded, fishing in his ridiculously tight jeans for his keys and turning off the radio. The one he’d just turned up to spite Munkustrap. Why.

 

“C’mon, sparklebutt, time for your magic lesson.” Tugger grinned and wiggled his fingers in a gesture Mistoffelees assumed was supposed to approximate ~magic.~ Ugh, whatever. Tugger unlocked the car and hopped in the driver’s seat, and Mistoffelees opened the passenger side door. Munkustrap was gone from the doorway by this point, presumably to work on that paperwork--he was doing a lot of that lately.

 

“You don’t have to keep calling me that, you know.” Mistoffelees looked sidelong at Tugger, who tousled his hair. “Oh my god, can you not?”

 

“Nah. You care way too much about your luscious locks, dude!”

 

“Says _you.”_ Mistoffelees snorted, looking at Tugger’s meticulously coiffed headfur and the carefully styled curl. Tugger laughed and started the car. The garage door opened, and he slowly backed out onto the street, looking over his right shoulder. He was always focused when driving the Coronet, and didn’t speak again until the car was safely out on the street.

 

“ _You_ don’t have anyone to impress, kid. Except maybe those weird twins? But I really don’t think they like you for your body.” Tugger smirked, and glanced down at Mistoffelees’ clothes. “Speaking of, you should dress like a normal dude more often. It suits you, and it’s gotta be more comfortable than those cornstarch-collar shirts you make a big hoot about.”

 

“Looking put-together is half the battle when it comes to getting people to respect you, Tugger.” Mistoffelees nodded matter-of-factly. Bustopher Jones was a frequent visitor to the household, and had taken on the role of (non-magical) mentor. He was really knowledgeable about these sorts of things, and his advice was invaluable; social matters didn’t come easily for Mistoffelees. Every little thing helped.

 

Mistoffelees looked across at his brother (and the skinny jeans and leather jacket he was wearing) and grinned. “But you know all about dressing to kill anyway, right?”

 

“You better fuckin’ believe it.”  Tugger turned the corner and pursed his lips into a thin line. “..Aw, hell. Your lessons are with Jellylorum, right? Shoulda asked before pulling out.”

 

Mistoffelees looked out the window at the passing suburbs and nodded. Tugger was heading the right way, thankfully. Jellylorum was probably the single least magical person Mistoffelees knew, and that was saying kind of a lot. But...she got lesson pointers from Deuteronomy, and was a teachers’ aide in her spare time, so of course everyone defaulted to letting her teach. Bah.

 

“Why didn’t you ever get your license, Misto? Now that I’m thinking of it, I mean, you couldn’t drive this baby...but Dad could get you a car, easy. And I know you’re old enough.”

 

As if. Mistoffelees hardly had time for anything, what with regular classes, magic classes, dance, chores, and getting in trouble with Munkustrap. He didn’t even have time for friends other than Coricopat and Tantomile. No time to learn how to drive for ages yet.

 

“I’m shit at driving, so.” Was what he elected to say instead, and that got a sharp laugh out of Tugger, who smacked the steering wheel with one hand.

 

“Misto, if Munk finds out I let you cuss around me he’s gonna wear my pelt for a _coat._ ”

 

“And yet.” Mistoffelees grinned, showing the tips of his canines. “I don’t hear you telling me _not_ to swear. Hark! Not a single ‘you watch your mouth, young man.’ Do my ears deceive me?”

 

Tugger made a show of rolling his eyes. “I figure you need _some_ one cool in your life, so you don’t grow up to be a complete goddamn square. Without me, mark my words, you’d be in your room studying the stock market right now, and you’d think it was the most fascinating thing in the world. Kid like you? I’m the best influence you can have.”

 

“Sure you are.” Mistoffelees scoffed, then paused, a malicious gleam in his eyes. “Although…”

 

“What.”

 

“This is pretty excellent blackmail material, don’t you think?” Mistoffelees laughed, making a show of blinking up innocently at Tugger. “I can hear Munkustrap now. _You’re corrupting the youth enough already, Rum Tum Tugger, I can_ not _believe you are letting our sweet, precious, perfect, wonderful, innocent baby brother_ swear!”

 

Tugger was laughing now, too, shaking his head. “Don’t get carried away with the adjectives there, dude. People might think you have a big head, and I might have to start gettin’ on you for cussing. Preserving the, uh... _innocence,_ and all that.”

 

“Nooooo. I’m the picture of humility!” Mistoffelees stuck out his bottom lip and batted his eyelashes, before looking up at Tugger. His brow creased curiously.

 

“...I didn’t know you knew what an adjective was.”

 

“I graduated high school! The hell do you take me for?”

 

“A scoundrel and a cheat.”

 

“Well. You’re not wrong.” Tugger gave an exaggerated wink and tousled Mistoffelees’ hair again. They were almost to Jellylorum’s, now, and he was starting to slow down as he approached the street she lived on.

 

The only other people who took lessons with Jellylorum were the “weird twins” Tugger had mentioned earlier, Coricopat and Tantomile. Their magic wasn’t exactly the same flavor as Mistoffelees’ own--they couldn’t change things in the world, but they had a certain prescience. They were a little older than Mistoffelees himself by maybe three years, and had been a constant presence in his lessons despite graduating high school the previous year. And with their abilities, there was no sense worrying about being late with them around, because they’d likely woken up knowing it and told Jellylorum the moment they arrived.

 

Besides, without Tantomile’s insistence on being punctual, Coricopat lost track of time worse than Mistoffelees did. They both had a lot of quirks like that, really, but most people didn’t see them as anything other than the creepy psychic twins who probably gossiped about you behind your back. Mistoffelees wasn’t most people.

 

“Hey, twinkle toes, we’re here. Quit spacing.” Tugger’s voice snapped Mistoffelees out of his reverie, and he shook his head to clear it.

 

“Oh! Thanks for the ride.” Mistoffelees undid his seatbelt and opened the car door, glancing back at Tugger. “I would’ve been a lot later otherwise, so. I appreciate it.”

 

Tugger rolled his eyes, but the corners of his mouth turned up just slightly. “Just make sure you’re not asking me for a ride every day, I got places to be. People to see. Hearts to break. You know the drill.”

 

Mistoffelees laughed and got out of the car. “More like people to disappoint, you pig. Cori and ‘Mile will give me a ride home, see you!”

 

“Yeah, okay, quit stalling and go find out which card is mine. Or play hooky, I don’t care. Shoo.”

 

Mistoffelees shut the door and Tugger drove off, engine purring the way he liked to brag about. Okay. Lesson time. He’d had lessons twice a week with Jellylorum since...well, since forever, probably. Mistoffelees certainly didn’t remember a time he didn’t have them, unless the time he was so sick he couldn’t get out of bed for two weeks without puking on everything in sight counted. That meant he wasn’t really sure how much they _helped,_ but he had the suspicion that most of the things he could do were just natural talent. Jellylorum didn’t have a lesson on teleportation, after all.

 

Straightening the hem of his t-shirt and mourning his wardrobe choices once again, Mistoffelees headed in to Jellylorum’s house. It was a small, yellow building with flowers dotting the path to the doorway. When he was a kitten, it reminded him of a house you’d see in a storybook. Now, its most notable feature was the old people smell. Oh well.

 

He opened the door and headed into the sitting room. Her house was as cheerful and simple inside as it was out, with pale blue walls lined with pictures of Gus and Asparagus Jr, and wooden floors with scattered rugs. Of course, the most notable feature of her sitting room was the large armchair from which Jellylorum was glaring expectantly at him.

 

“ _There_ you are! Really, you should try to be more timely. This is getting to be a problem, young man.”

 

Mistoffelees winced and put his hands up in a placating gesture. She was right. This was the third or fourth time, probably. “I know! I know. I’m trying, Jelly, I really am. I’ll put an alarm on my phone.”

 

She could never resist his wiles. It was probably the chronic kitten-face, but Mistoffelees liked to think it was his natural charm and wit. Jellylorum smiled slightly.

 

“Well, you _better._ Sit down, then, let’s not waste any more time than we’ve already lost.” She gestured to a cushion on the floor, next to two similar ones that Coricopat and Tantomile were occupying, and shuffled some papers on her lap. “Let’s see, lesson plan, lesson plan…”

  
The twins turned in unison and waved hello from where they were seated, and set about chatting about the weekend with Mistoffelees while Jelly arranged her plans. All in all, it was shaping up to be a pretty good day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> He will absolutely never, ever set an alarm on his phone.


	3. Chapter Two: lesson time

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things start to heat up! And Misto has a crush (two crushes).

**** The thing about magic, for cats, is that--while rare--it wasn’t terribly shocking when a kitten was born magic, especially if it ran in the family. Really, a little magic ran in all cats, some just had a little more than others. Or, in Mistoffelees’ case, a metric ton more than others. 

 

Too bad that not even Deuteronomy could’ve guessed how talented he’d be. Jellylorum tried, but her lessons were  _ so  _ tedious; Mistoffelees couldn’t help but let his mind wander! And, well...given that the twins were busy reciting paragraphs from a book Jellylorum was silently reading, who could blame him if his mind wandered in their direction? It only made sense. 

 

Their flavor of magic was subtler than his, in more ways than just the obvious. Mistoffelees would wager a guess that that’s why they looked the way they did--identical down to every strand of fur, despite clearly being fraternal twins. Their faces were similar too, but they both managed to be strikingly attractive, with straight noses and strong brows. Those were their most notable features, but not their only good ones--they both had pretty nice lips, though he wasn’t sure whose would be softer. 

 

They had really nice speaking voices, too, now that he was thinking about it. Melodious wasn’t exactly the right word, but it was close--their voices were lyrical even when reading dry, dusty history.

 

Anyway. The lesson. Yes. Coricopat and Tantomile were wrapping up the bit that Mistoffelees couldn’t be involved in, so now it was time for one of their precision exercises. Next to Jellylorum’s armchair was a box that held most of the physical objects she had her students work with. Mostly, it was a mishmash of odds and ends that Mistoffelees would practice moving about. This time around, Jellylorum pulled out a cloth mat marked with numbered dots, and a tarnished fork. 

 

The lesson that went with the numbered mat was a simple one. Coricopat and Tantomile would decide a number, and then attempt to communicate that number to Mistoffelees, who would move the fork to the right dot. The most difficult part had been training to sense when the twins were trying to tell him something. Despite his posturing, Mistoffelees wasn’t perfect, and that was an area where his natural talent was a little...lacking. 

 

Tantomile and Coricopat moved several feet backwards and turned to face each other. They crossed their legs and held hands, eyes closed as they concentrated. Mistoffelees turned his back to them and took up the same position, the only difference being his hands resting loosely on his knees. He liked to imagine how ridiculous they looked to Jellylorum--maybe like some sort of cult.

 

It was a strange experience, and something he got the impression that Coricopat and Tantomile experienced constantly. It felt...almost like every sense he had, had been sharpened. Not  _ quite _ like a photo coming into focus, but the analogy worked well enough to suit it. Unfortunately, while he’d gotten a bit better at general psychic stuff, things like this still took intense concentration. As he focused, he became acutely aware of Jellylorum’s measured breathing, the scratching of her pencil against the pad she took notes on, and particularly of Tantomile and Coricopat behind him. 

 

Supposedly, if he got really good, he could do this with everyone, but he could feel more than simply their presence. Mistoffelees was aware of their thoughts, as rapid-fire background noise. But one of the sounds stuck out more to him than the rest--a number. He focused on that, singling it out until he could hear clearly what they wanted from him. 

 

_ Five. _ This was the easy part. Mistoffelees opened his eyes and flashed a winning smile at Jellylorum before waving his hand over the fork, and easy as pie, it was resting neatly over the dot marked ‘five.’

 

There was a simultaneous, sharp crack behind Mistoffelees and Jellylorum gasped. Mistoffelees whipped around to find Tantomile leaning back, a scorch mark on the pillow she was sitting on. 

 

“We’re fine,” Coricopat said immediately, standing and holding out a hand for Tantomile. She took it and nodded as she rose. Apparently, not even an electrical shock mere inches from her face could make Tantomile lose even an ounce of her cool persona. 

 

“We had an inkling something was going to happen, so I leaned back ahead of time.” She smiled and shrugged. “It’s no big deal.”

 

Mistoffelees boggled. No big deal his (usually) impeccably-dressed  _ ass.  _ At least Jellylorum seemed to get what a big deal this was; she was standing now as well, her mouth agape. It looked like she couldn’t decide who to be more shocked with; Mistoffelees for having done it, or Tantomile for being so chill about it.

 

“Why did you  _ do  _ that?” Well. Seems she’d decided, then. He winced. 

 

“I didn’t mean to! It just--it just  _ happened,  _ I don’t know why.” It was the truth; uncontrolled bursts of magic hadn’t happened to Mistoffelees since he was ten, and then, only when he got really angry or upset. Getting them under control had been a...process, but once he’d managed them, it hadn’t been an issue.

 

Of course, this was exactly why he’d had to manage them so young. His magic naturally favored electrical usages, so when something uncontrolled happened, things (or people) got damaged. Tugger _ still  _ liked to complain about his long-since-healed bald patch. It wasn’t like Mistoffelees had done it on purpose! But oh nooo. 

 

Jellylorum pursed her lips and put her hands on her hips, her expression unreadable. Coricopat and Tantomile excused themselves to go get something to drink, which Mistoffelees was  _ sure _ wasn’t a well-timed escape from an awkward conversation. 

 

“You know,” Jellylorum said, thoughtful, “It might be because of your, ah. Delicate age. It would certainly make sense! Everlasting knows Coricopat and Tantomile had the  _ hardest _ time with it when they were your age.”

 

Mistoffelees groaned and covered his face with his hands. “Oh my god. Jelly,  _ please,  _ if there is anything about...eugh…‘magical puberty’ that I need to know, just. Talk about it with my dad and have him tell me? Or I could google it! Let the all-powerful internet lead me down the path to, uh. Education. That’d be at least a little less traumatic.”

 

“Are you sure?” Jellylorum was a mothering sort, and she was always looking for more wayward kittens. If he gave her half a chance, she’d probably adopt him. 

 

Mistoffelees ran a hand through his headfur and huffed a breath, eyes focused on the floor. “You’re not my mother. And maybe if you were it’d be different, but you’re not and it’s weird. I mean... I guess it’d be weird if you were my mom, too, I don’t exactly know about things in that department, but you know that already, and I don’t want to hurt your--”

 

“Mistoffelees.” Jellylorum put a hand on his shoulder and patted reassuringly. “It was  _ one  _ errant spark. No one got hurt. You don’t have to have any lectures about the birds and the bees if you don’t want to; you’re really a very bright tom and I think you’ll manage just fine. Let’s continue the lesson, okay?”

 

Once he nodded, of course, Tantomile and Coricopat returned with four glasses of water and brought their cushions--Mistoffelees made a point of not looking at the scorched patch--back in front of Jellylorum’s armchair.

 

“Thank you, you two.” Jellylorum let out a relieved sigh and sat back down in her chair, taking a long sip of her water. “Well then! I think book study would be most, erm, effective for the rest of our time here, so why don’t you three go ahead and see if there’s anything we’ve got that strikes your fancy, and we’ll plan the next lesson around that.”

 

There was a small, well-worn shelf in the far end of Jellylorum’s sitting room that was full of books relating to magic and the study thereof. As far as Mistoffelees was concerned, it had been there forever, and likely always would be. At least, until he or the twins ended up taking it to teach their own lessons. Oh, god.  _ There _ was a terrifying thought, being relegated to teaching snot-nosed kittens how to pull a rabbit out of a hat.

 

No. He was destined for much bigger--and cooler--things than that. 

 

The rest of the lesson was as dull and dry as the books they were reading, unsurprisingly. Magical theory could really only advance so far when your teacher couldn’t do it, and Mistoffelees had a suspicion that maybe a little suburban town in the middle of scenic nowhere wasn’t the best place to get good. Like,  _ really good.  _ He could perform card tricks all day, but that wasn’t real skill. 

 

At least, though, the lessons meant he got to hang out with Coricopat and Tantomile afterwards. The three of them were standing outside Jellylorum’s house next to the twins’ beat-up car and chatting like they normally did after lessons. Truth be told, Mistoffelees missed hanging out with them--they’d graduated the year before, so this was the only time he ever got to see them anymore. 

 

“We can give you a ride,” Tantomile said smoothly, before he’d even opened his mouth to ask. Coricopat nodded.

 

“And we love having you over, dude, you’re the best, but--”

 

“--Munk is probably fixing to have my hide. Trust me, once he was all,” Mistoffelees cleared his throat and did his best impression of Munkustrap’s significantly deeper voice, “ _ twenty minutes late, _ I knew I probably shouldn’t mess around.”

 

Tantomile laughed, her whole face lighting up in a rare smile that wasn’t serene and reserved. Coricopat, on the other hand, opened the backseat door of the car and made a show of bowing deeply at Mistoffelees.

 

“Your ride, my liege.” He was clearly struggling to maintain a straight face, as he waved towards the ratty interior of the car. 

 

Mistoffelees felt his face heat up and quickly climbed into the backseat, buckling up. No one, least of all Coricopat and Tantomile, needed to see him  _ blushing.  _ God. Tantomile got into the driver’s seat and Coricopat into the passenger’s, and then they were off.

 

“We should hang out more,” Tantomile said as she turned the key, casting a brief look at Mistoffelees through the rear-view mirror. “I mean, I know we just said we couldn’t tonight, on account of Munkustrap and all, but we never see each other anymore.”

 

“Hell yeah!” Coricopat looked over his shoulder and nodded, enthusiastic. “You could come by after school Monday or Tuesday?”

 

Oh,  _ awesome.  _ Mistoffelees was pretty sure his face had recovered, so he chanced looking up to smile at the both of them. “Definitely. I could probably come over this weekend, though, if that’d be better…?” They had college courses, right, that had to be crazy--it was probably best to offer.

 

“You can’t.” Tantomile, from his view of her in the rear-view mirror, gave him a knowing glance and cocked one eyebrow. Ah. The  _ we know something you don’t but telling you is pointless _ look. Definitely not one of his favorite looks, if he had to rank the ones that the two of them liked to make. 

 

“...Okay, then.” Mistoffelees snorted and looked out the window. “Any other cryptic hints for me, O Mystic Ones?”

 

Coricopat snickered, “My most staticky of pals, I can only recommend you keep dressing like you are now. For the weekend, at least.” He turned around again, apparently  _ just _ so he could give an exaggerated wink.

 

“But what you’re wearing now seems more comfortable, anyway!”

 

Tantomile nodded her agreement. “You look very dapper, of course, all dressed up, but this is cute too.”

 

_ Cute. _ Mistoffelees flicked his ears back and focused on the passing scenery, struggling to suppress an embarrassed smile. “Oh, Everlasting, not you  _ too. _ Tugger got on me about that earlier.”

 

Coricopat’s grimace was clear in the rear view mirror. “Well! Tugger has, um. He has  _ a  _ fashion sense. ...Very  _ distinct.  _ Very eighties.”

 

Tantomile laughed, “An ass like that, and you could get away with wearing almost anything.”

 

Ew. Ew! Mistoffelees and Coricopat turned to look at her, matching expressions of horror on their faces, and her ears flattened back against her head.

 

“It’s an objective statement!”

 

“No ‘objective statements’ about my brother’s ass while I’m trapped in the same space as you, or I might tragically lose control of my powers and set the car on fire, killing us all. What a way to go.” Mistoffelees’ expression and tone were completely deadpan, until Coricopat let out an evil snicker. Oh, no.

 

“What about Munkustrap?”

 

Nooooo. Mistoffelees flung himself back against the seat back, one arm covering his face. “Why am I friends with you people. I hate you both.”

 

The rest of the ride continued in much the same manner, and Mistoffelees was already missing them by the time he got out of the car and waved goodbye. And, of course, that was absolutely the reason he stayed on the curb to wave until they turned the corner, and not at all because he was stalling. The sun was setting, though, so he didn’t dawdle any longer after that--best not to piss off Munkustrap any more than he inevitably already was.

 

Mistoffelees and Munkustrap normally had dinner together, just the two of them, because Tugger would rather be caught dead than be home for supper, and Deuteronomy normally took dinner in his office so as not to interrupt his workflow. He owned a small chain of bookstores and was the founder of several shelters and charities, and despite passing on many of those duties to Munkustrap, he was still terribly busy. Mistoffelees understood; of course he did. He wasn’t a child, and when he wasn’t in trouble having dinner with Munkustrap was normally pretty nice.

 

Right now, though, Munkustrap was wearing his patent stern look as they ate, and Mistoffelees was starting to squirm in his seat.

 

“Sorry I was late again, Munk. I’m gonna get better about that.”

 

Munkustrap sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Misto, I know you’ve got a lot on your plate, but I can never find you when it’s time for your lessons and this is the fifth or sixth time you’ve been late.”

 

“Really?” He could’ve sworn he was better about being on time than  _ that,  _ but then again he was busy enough that lessons tended to blur together, most weeks.

 

“Yes, really. It’s getting a little out of hand.”

 

“Sorry.” Mistoffelees pushed some food around on his plate thoughtfully. “I told Jelly I’d set a phone alarm, that might help?”

 

“Sure. I’ll start looking for you earlier, too.” Munkustrap brightened visibly--although he still looked exhausted. “But you’re still in trouble. So, this weekend, when you’re doing your chores, no magic. You get to take out the trash like the rest of us mere mortals.”

 

Mistoffelees groaned and pushed his plate forward, so as to flop onto the table without getting a face full of spaghetti. “You’re  _ evil,  _ Munk. Evil!”

 

Munkustrap laughed and took a sip of his drink. “That’s my job, kid.”

 

“Nuh.” Mistoffelees lifted his head slightly to smirk across the table. “You’re not my  _ real  _ dad.”

 

Munkustrap’s expression was briefly unreadable before he chuckled. “Maybe not! But Dad’s given me executive powers, so that means I have the authority of real-dad-by-proxy. But if you wanted, you could take it up with him…?”

 

“Ha! Ha, ha. He’d make me do it for  _ two  _ weeks.” 

  
Mistoffelees sat up and resumed eating, occasionally looking up to blow raspberries across the table. Doing chores this weekend was going to be the absolute  _ worst,  _ but for now, things were looking up. Everything would sort itself out, easy peasy. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know if you liked it, hated it, if it boggled your mind, that sort of thing! And I'm always happy to answer any sort of questions you might have :)


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